


Illusions

by Ghilenan, SuperNerd92, TK_DuVeraun



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fantasy Racism, angst but no happy ending, fantasy slavery, just warning you, this one's doomed y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-12 02:45:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16864717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghilenan/pseuds/Ghilenan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperNerd92/pseuds/SuperNerd92, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TK_DuVeraun/pseuds/TK_DuVeraun
Summary: What devastating event could possibly drive would-be Tevinter magister Terenti Sokolov off the typical path of blood magic and evil? Why did Ghilenan abandon her place in Clan Lavellan for the life of a freedom fighter in Tevinter?An AU to the Ulterior Motives timeline where the characters meet much earlier and have very different motivations.





	1. Chapter 1

Two heads peeked over the ridge. One: completely elven with the traditional blood tattoos in the shape of a tree. The other: only  _somewhat_ so, with ears tapering into small but noticeable points. 

“They’re almost here,” the Dalish hissed, gesturing to the road below. “Are you  _quite_ sure this plan of yours is going to work?” 

“Of course. Just trust me.” The young man paused. “I realize that sounds rich coming from the Tevinter magister. But this is going to work.”

“We’ll see. The clan  _only_ moves on my signal and  _only_ if that slave caravan does exactly what you claim it will.” 

“Yes, yes. Time to go.” The magister hopped down the slope with quick steps, waving his hands in ornate gestures as he did. He stepped out onto the road and stood still before the lumbering slave caravan.

One of the drivers called a halt, then shouted in Tevene. “Get out of the way!” 

“Ah, yes, well, I’m afraid I won’t be doing  _that_ ,” he grinned. “Release the slaves and you can escape with your lives. If not… well, it will be very unpleasant for everyone.” 

The overseer snorted. “He’s mad. Keep moving; we’ll crush him if he doesn’t step aside.” 

With a dramatic sigh, the man on the road flourished his staff. At once, a whole army of demons rose from the ground. Burning Rage, slavering Hunger, hulking Pride. They rushed the caravan, the slavers wailing in fear and rushing to muster their defenses. 

The lead overseer snarled and hurled a blast of wintery cold towards the nearest Rage demon. It passed through without any visible effect. The snarling demon continued towards him. For a brief moment, fear fought with incredulity, and then–

“They’re not real! They’re just illusions!”

A creeping vine rose from the ground and snared itself around his limbs, holding him in place. The young man swaggered up to him, beaming. “Yes, a neat trick, wasn’t it? Kept all your men focused on  _me_ instead of the real threat.”

The overseer winced as the screams began. Arrows whistled through the hot air, an ambush from  _behind_ the caravan. His men, still staring at the false demons, were caught completely unaware. 

“You think you’ve accomplished something here? You’ll pay for this, half-blood,” he snarled at the other mage. “The Magisterium will cull these knife-ears for their defiance.” 

“You let me worry about the Magisterium,” the youth said, with sudden steely tones. “I’m Terenti Sokolov, and Tevinter is  _going_ to change if I have to destroy every last lowlife like  _you_.” 

He snapped his fingers. The vine crept closer and tightened on the slaver’s neck like a vice. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now with Ilena actually appearing lol

It had become easy work, stealing slaves from Lords and Magisters, barely ever changing the strategy despite years of raiding; Sneak in along with the new ones, find the safest way out of the estate, gather as many as possible, and smuggle them out a few at a time. The proud fools usually hid the shame of having their property stolen from right under their noses, so the others never really knew what exactly to watch out for, or that they needed to be on guard at all.

The slave auctions were much of the same, if a bit messier. Nobody acknowledged the missing slavers while every noble had _someone_ to throw a fuss over them, and the opportunities to pin their deaths on other high-ranking members of Tevinter society rarely presented themselves. It wasn’t much of an issue to leave them alive, though, seeing as how that could become a problem only if they saw _and_ crossed paths with her again.

Well… Magister Heres’ dogs had _almost_ caught her a month ago, and he, likely very short of help at the estate, had come all the way to the Nevarran border to get his grabby, bejewelled hands on some fresh blood. _With_ the captain of his guard, naturally, the one that now wore the scars of her scratches over his face. She would have laughed at the memory of him screaming all sorts of insults at her back, but his eyes suddenly darted on her, and with little subtlety, he pointed her out to the Magister and the two guards at his side.

She knew she should have grabbed the hired shem, dressed in fabrics he'd only seen stolen to sell in the past, and she should've left at the first sign of danger. Like when she caught that blond Lordling’s suspicious stare when she was, admittedly suspiciously herself, snooping around the holding cages. _Alone_ , because the mercenary got _too_ much into character and refused to give up the comforts of the pavilion.

The elf hid behind a corner and listened to the heavy, hurried steps scraping sand over stone tiles. The four pursuers were armored far too well for her small dagger to do any real damage, so she kept it hidden inside the belt of that ridiculous peasant dress that was supposed to help her blend in with the slaves. The ones that served, that is. The rest, those waiting in chains to be sold and used for Creators know what, those were the ones she planned to free. _Had_ planned, until the blighted shem recognized her face and alerted his master.

It went silent then, and she stalked back the way she'd come, to hide in the crowd and sneak out the moment she could. The door creaked at her push, but the hall was clearly empty, and with a small sigh of relief, she stepped outside. Eyes on the hot sand under her feet, shoulders down and hands clasped neatly in front of her belt, the pretend slave shuffled along the back of the building. She had almost reached the corner when the guard captain emerged from behind it, sword half drawn in warning and brows furrowed tightly.

“She's back here!” He barked and marched forward with no hesitation while she backed up towards the door; The door that opened behind her for Jahin and the two dogs of his.

“It must be _something_ to see me and know why I'm here. To see firsthand that all your trouble was in vain,” the Magister mocked from a safe distance as his guards cautiously closed in on the elf. “Did you think you were in any way helping vermin like you by stealing slaves from me? Someone that can acquire twice as many by simply offering small favors along with a bit of coin?”

“I don't know you, my Lord,” the elf said as she backed into the sun-baked wall, the tremble in her voice less feigned than she would've liked. Three warriors and a mage, and she wasn't armed to put up a fight if talking didn't work. But none of them knew she had magic.

“Of course you don't, you stupid knife-ear!” The scarred man growled and grabbed her wrist in a vice grip. “But you do know me,” he ground between his teeth, the thin, red lines on his twitching face not looking half as funny as they did at first. She heard Magister Heres command she be put in chains, and it sealed their fate. She struggled to distract the captain, and prepared to engulf him in flames.

“Magister Heres,” a voice called from behind, “Please unhand the girl. She’s _my_ property and I’d rather you not leave a mark on that pretty wrist.”

It was the blond man who’d been watching her earlier. Now he swaggered up to the group, arms folded over his chest, head tilted back with typical magisterial arrogance.

Jahin turned around lazily while his guards exchanged tense looks, and looked him up and down with narrowed eyes. “Lord Sokolov--”

“She’s the rabid cat that made off with the slaves, Magister,” the scarred man interrupted him and tightened his old, “I’d know that feral look anywhere.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “You heard him. The man has a rather good memory. I _am_ tempted to believe you both, though. It would have… interesting implications.”

“Please,” Sokolov scoffed. “She’s a house slave at the estate. This is the first time she’s left its grounds. Your man clearly has her confused with someone else. I understand; all these knife-ears look the same to me, too.”

Though wary of this Sokolov’s motivations, the elf twisted around to look at him with as frightened a face as she could manage. “Please,” she whined, “I was only looking for the stock keeper, like you ordered.”

Heres considered, stroking his chin with an irritated twitch of his fingers. “You’re right. She even _looks_ too dense to have managed anything of that sort,” he scoffed and waved a hand at the guard captain, who reluctantly released her wrist and let out a displeased groan when she ran to stand behind the young lord, snivelling and rubbing the reddening skin on her arm.

Sokolov made a magnanimous gesture. “I’m glad. I was _quite_ sure your man didn’t mean to contradict me,” he said, with menace in the undertones. “She will be severely punished for disturbing you, of course. Come, slave.”

He turned on his heel and marched without looking back, radiating certainty that the cowed elf wouldn’t dare to do anything but follow.

Whatever his intentions were, one Tevinter mage was far better to deal with, so the elf did as told, and even pretended to have trouble keeping pace with him for show.

“She even has the scar, Magister Heres,” the guard protested, and she heard Jahin shout 'enough!’ and scold him for wasting his time, in more colorful terms. Stealing the new slaves from him would be harder and something would need to be done to stop him from getting more. Something crafty and grizzly and-- she shook her head, shifting focus back to the _current_ problem. He wasn't armored, but he was a lord, with guards to spare, probably, so he'd have to be dealt with before rejoining his entourage. The elf turned the corner with him and felt for her dagger.

“Well, you really messed that one up,” was the first thing Sokolov said. He stopped abruptly and looked around, nodding in satisfaction as he saw that they were alone in what looked like some sort of back alley. “Have you considered a mask? Or not leaving witnesses alive? Or both, both is probably safest.”

She halted and took a step back for good measure. She thought to continue feigning ignorance and to simply take him to the mercenary, now drunk out of his ass, no doubt, which the young Lord didn't seem to be, and he didn't appear dim either.

“I may be considering one of them right now,” the elf threatened, voice low and full of intent, but she couldn't help her curiosity, “Messed _what_ up, exactly?”

Sokolov tutted impatiently, then spoke in a low but urgent voice. “I heard all of the accusations Heres was bellowing. Playing dumb is just wasting our time. You’re here to disrupt the slave auction somehow, or were, before you got recognized. Do we need to alert your confederates that it’s all off, or…”

“Listen well, _shem_ , it is none of your business what I'm here to do, and the less you know, the less tempted I'll be to take your advice,” she snarled. “Why did you help me? What's in this for you? And don't give me the _'I’m not like other shems’_ bullshit.”

“In point of fact, I’m very literally _not_ like the other magisters.” After glancing around again for more watchers, he tapped the ornate ring on his left hand. At once his appearance changed, and the man that stood before her was distinctly elf-blooded, most noticeably with the pointed ears. As quickly as it appeared, though, he was back to normal.

 _Gods, he_ _must think me a complete idiot to expect me to fall for that. Or_ he's _stupid enough to out himself to a complete stranger_ , she thought. “Is this some feeling of kinship you suddenly found within decided to act upon?” the elf mocked, and continued before he could speak, “There's nobody to warn today. I'm here only to assess the situation.”

“Not suddenly,” Sokolov said, either missing the mockery or ignoring it, it was hard to tell. “I’ve already disrupted a few caravans. I worked with a clan, uh… Well I forget their name, but anyway, we took down all the slavers, returned the Dalish and let the others go home. Easy enough on a remote road. Something like this auction would be a lot more difficult.”

“And I'm to believe you're here to, what, somehow interrupt the auction and steal the slaves?”

“Oh, Maker, no. I can’t think of a way to do that safely,” he said, with a shake of his head. “No, I was just going to buy some and quietly set them free once I got back home.”

“Of course. Well, I've seen enough, and you get to keep your coin if I make it out of here without being found out, so…” she finished the rest by gesturing him to lead the way.

“I would like to know more about you and your group. But that can wait.” He nodded and moved away, back in the imperious stalking magister mode as they rounded the corner.

She fell in line behind him, with a complete change of posture, eyes low and voice lower when she spoke again, “And it will. Until I have proof of what you claim.”

“Yes, well, that might be difficult. _I_ didn’t leave anyone alive to tattle on me,” Sokolov hissed over his shoulder. “And the clan’s moved on, as they do.”

“I wonder how many would-be slaves your no-survivor policy has gotten killed…” the elf mumbled, looking around subtly as they cut through the early crowd of buyers and their companions.

“None,” the mage said shortly. Crowds pressed too close around them now for even muttering such things. He silently elbowed through the mass.

She took the lead without so much as a word once they were outside the auction grounds and had turned the corner to the West. It briefly baffled her how he didn't even pause to maybe consider that he was following a complete stranger to a very obvious trap. Nevermind that she was doing something just as stupid. Then again, she had already said too much, so keeping an eye on him would be easier this way, and he was just one mage.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These two are so smooth

The walk to the camp wasn’t long, seeing as how slavers always picked areas with plenty of places to hide in. The elf stopped at the sound of a sudden chirp and faint rustling from the dense woods, and gestured him to do the same. “In case you’re thinking of leaving now, I’d advise not to,” she warned as she looked up to the tops of the trees, waiting for…  _ something _ .

“Naturally,” Sokolov said, as if he did this all the time, though he  _ hardly  _ looked like someone who tramped around the woods. “I figured this would be tricky when you didn’t blindfold me.”

“That would have been a waste of my effort. Come,” she said coldly as she walked into the small clearing and towards the figure that had jumped from the lower branches one of the trees.

“Da’len,” the other elf called, his arm extended to beckon her closer, and stroked her head when she was close enough. “Why have you brought this human here?” He asked in Elven, though there was hardly any need with how quietly he spoke.

“He claims he wishes to help. And he saw me sneaking around the slavers’ property,” she answered in the common tongue, and the man only nodded, needing no further explanation. He slung his bow over his back as he eyed the very obviously noble-blooded human with no obvious emotion.

“To clarify,  _ another  _ human caught her and I talked her out of a spot of trouble,” Sokolov said, raising one finger. “Look, I’m elf-blooded myself. If the magisters found out… It would be the end. It’s neither fair nor just. And neither is slavery - elves, humans, anyone.”

“It was that Heres and his dogs,” she confirmed after exchanging a quick, knowing look with the archer.

“I see. You have my thanks, stranger,” he bowed his head and bumped a fist to his chest. “Da’len, take him to the camp and send someone to take the watch in my stead. I have questions for your guest.”

The human nodded. “Happy to answer them. I’ve got some of my own.”

The young elf turned to leave without losing a beat. “What can you do?” she asked further down the overgrown trail, “My father will ask himself, but I'll likely understand better.” The gnarled roots burrowed in the ground at the swipe of her hand, revealing a camp far too small to accommodate more than a dozen.

“Illusions. This one’s pretty good if I do say so myself,” Sokolov said with a point at his very human looking ears. “And earth magic like that, but I’m still learning. My family denied its elf-blood and natural talents for... a long time.” 

“Learning?” The elf laughed and turned on her heel before coming to an abrupt halt. “This is a strictly Dalish practice, Sokolov. Just  _ where _ are you learning it from?”

“My grandmother was Dalish. When my father told me of our lineage, he also gave me a grimoire  _ she’d  _ given him. Language, stories, and the Keepers’ magic.” He shook his head. “He’d had to hide all of it because… well, Tevinter. He was so eager to actually pass it on.” 

“I… see. Well, I suppose it’s not uncommon for Dalish mages to keep grimoires.” She shrugged, and after a moment’s consideration, mumbled something about that not being “enough to harness the gift”, and cringed at how that was exactly the sort of thing her Keeper would say. “What else do you know about-- no, nevermind for now. Wait here… somewhere,” she sputtered and gestured in the general direction of the campfire, and rushed through the camp.

The others spared only short glances for the unexpected guest, but the sudden silence gave away their curiosity. The elf girl sent someone out of the cluttered clearing, and returned after having discarded the ill-fitted dress in favor of something distinctly more Dalish.

“Oh wow, you’re--” Sokolov’s face flushed for some reason. “Um... I mean... your face doesn’t have the markings. Is this a Dalish clan?” 

She looked around, brows knit together, and sat on one of the crates lying nearby. “Yes, sort of. Is this a problem? I’m no lamb, if that’s what you suddenly think. My lack of Vallaslin is entirely intentional.”

“No, no, I understand. You couldn’t move freely around Tevinter with them.” He fumbled to touch his ring again and dispel his own illusion of being fully human. “I’m just curious about this group. The other Dalish I worked with were only too eager to be on their way to Nevarra or Antiva.” 

“So was our clan after we had rescued our own. I said we could do more, my father agreed, and--” she shrugged and gestured at the small camp. “The rest left. Which is good. We already draw enough attention to ourselves as is, and mercenaries are just as good if paid enough.”

“If you think you can trust them. Anyone who’s selling their sword to the highest bidder might go running back to alert the magisters,” he said doubtfully.

“They usually manage to die before they think of doing that, but yes,” the elf said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Were you alone at that pathetic excuse for a fortress? If it comes to bloodshed, there will be no time to check who’s on whose side.”

“Yes, I came alone. I haven’t found many others I trust. Only my father knows why I’m really here.” Sokolov paused. “I completely forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Terenti. I’d rather you use that than Lord Sokolov. That’s just so impersonal.” 

“That's not a very Tevinter name, Terenti.” She tilted her head to the side and cocked an eyebrow at him. “You can call me Ilena, if we are to be on a first name basis.”

He waved a hand carelessly. “Grandfather’s family emigrated from the Anderfels. Which is enough excuse for many to look down on the Sokolovs. Lovely and accepting society, Tevinter is.” 

She only pursed her lips and hummed in agreement, and sat up when her father emerged from the shaded forest, suddenly looking very alert. 

He calmly made his way towards the campfire and gestured them to sit with him. “How well can you handle yourself?” He asked bluntly before either of the two had the chance to react.

“Uh, well enough. I think. What’s wrong?” Terenti’s eyes were wide. 

“My daughter said you wish to help. You can assist by coming with us,” the elf explained, and looked at Ilena. “If she thinks it wise to trust your intentions, I will defer to her judgement, but I will not risk a Magister blaming us for the death of his son.”

“He wouldn’t. Please don’t worry about that.” The mage just looked embarrassed. 

“It's decided then. We'll leave at midnight, find the captured elves, slit a few throats quietly, and sneak out before the anyone notices something is amiss,” he went over the plan with casual confidence.

“The slaver's thugs guard only the eastern side, where they keep the slaves,” Ilena added, “I can--  _ we _ can get rid of them on the way in.”

The elven man nodded and stood to leave. “All as planned, then. Rest for now,” he said and turned to the young Lord. “If you need something before it's time, you can ask Ghilenan.”

For a time, Ilena stared silently as he walked away to check on the others. “Do you?” She asked suddenly, “Need something, I mean. A staff? Lyrium?”

Terenti shrugged. “Trying to adjust to a staff I’m not familiar with in the heat of battle seems like a worse idea than just going without. I think I’ll be alright. You must be used to fighting without one, right?” 

“Fair. I try not to use magic unless pressed, so no. I fight with  _ that _ ,” she said and pointed to the polearm roughly resembling a staff, propped up with the rest of the clutter. “Just as deadly. Useless in close quarters, though.”

“Have you heard about the ancient elven magic-knights, or whatever they are? Using their spells to fight with swords and armor? My grandmother had a few notes on that, though as far as she knew the actual working of the spells has been completely lost.” 

“Arcane warriors? No-one has seen them for ages beyond counting. _ Some _ spells are still passed down Keeper to Keeper, but most of it has been lost, yes,” Ilena replied wistfully and started picking at the seams on her sleeve. It was the blighted shems that caused the downfall of her people and the loss of their glory, and though he wasn't entirely  _ theirs _ , she couldn't help the pang of resentment that made her focus ever harder on the task of plucking pieces of thread out of the fabric. It bit into her finger and she relented only to snap at him instead. “Do you plan to follow me blindly into that pit of vipers or are you going to ask something relevant to the raid?”

“Oh, you all seem to know what you’re doing. I’m just an extra mage,” Terenti said with what appeared to be genuine modesty. 

“How are you still alive?” Ilena half squeaked in frustration.

“I’m very good with my mouth,” he said, paused for half a moment of realizing implications, and immediately stammered, “I--No, I mean! I meant, I’m a fast talker. You saw the magister act. Nobody gets in your way if you do that well enough.” 

The glare she shot him probably rivalled the one Heres’ guard captain claimed he was subjected to, but the effect was lost entirely to the tint of red that crept down her neck from her face, and the pout that followed when she  _ felt _ the color spreading. “That’s hardly helping your case,” she grumbled and looked around in vain for something to throw at him.

“I can take care of myself,” Terenti said back, somewhat peevish. “I saved you, didn’t I?” 

“Yes, and I owe you, but that doesn’t mean--” the elf stopped mid-sentence for a beat and mumbled something under her breath. “Nevermind. That was unworthy and I apologize,” she added with a resigned sigh.

“I didn’t want a… I mean, thank you, but you’re under no obligation to me. I just want to help with all this,” he said, gesturing around the camp. “I  _ know  _ I can be useful.” 

“Well, if anything goes wrong, you should consider yourself the only mage there. Unless more is needed, I’d prefer to stick to the more inconvenient methods of killing.”

He nodded. “I understand. I’ll try to keep them all safe.” 

“Actually, you’re dressed too Magister-y. That might worry the slaves. You should come with me to find the ones in charge instead,” she decided.

Terenti shrugged. “I can come with you, but I won’t be looking magister-y on the operation.” He snapped his fingers, and in an instant his ornate robes changed to nondescript servant’s rags. The slightly pointed ears extended to become full elven. The hair darkened, and a scar marred the face, even if the features were the same. He gave a self-satisfied grin. 

“Oh, now you’re just showing off.” Ilena rolled her eyes, but couldn’t keep the amusement out of her voice. “Useful trick, though.”

“Isn’t it, though?” The voice was the same, too, which was slightly eerie. “They’ll never tell the difference as long as I’ve got mana left.” 

“Don't push it. I might end up learning this magic and then it won't be  _ your _ thing anymore.”

“I’d be happy to teach you, but you don’t need illusions to--” This time he almost managed to stop talking before putting his foot in it.  _ Almost _ . 

“I don’t need them to  _ what _ ?” She narrowed her eyes. “Pass as an inconspicuous slave?”

“... Uh, well, yeah. But only because magisters don’t look past the surface. You’re obviously far too strong-willed to be mistaken for one.” 

“Oh, relax. I’m under no illusion about where my people fit in the Imperium,” Ilena said coldly. The silence, though brief, was tense, and she suddenly scooted closer to him, gaze fixed on the side of his head. “Is that strictly visual or..?”

“Oh… yeah.” He shifted, somewhat uncomfortable with her staring. “Yeah, it’s not shapeshifting, but similar principles. Make it look how you want and make the change, except it’s just a projection, a trick.” 

“It doesn’t take as much mana either, I imagine,” she muttered more to herself than Terenti, and retreated back to her spot as suddenly as she had invaded his space. “I’m-- excuse my curiosity. Not many use this sort of magic where I’m from. I’ll, um… let you rest now.” The elf rose to her feet in one smooth motion and backed up a couple of steps before turning around and fleeing in the same direction her father had gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See as we manufacture situations for lennyface

Lords and minor nobles were easy to steal from, Magisters - even more so, what with how their arrogance blinded them to the possibility. Slavers had become more alert. Twitchier. Hired thugs stood watch in every corner, paid well enough in coin and promises of prestige that they attacked with little hesitation and less thought. That made their masters easier to rob, provided that you had the numbers to match theirs.

An archer with a sharp eye and a steady arm, waiting just outside the grounds to snuff out any trouble before it started, half a dozen elves armed to the teeth with swords and daggers, and a mage. Well,  _ two _ mages, now. Or one, as far as Ilena was concerned. They rolled three dead bodies off the crumbling wall before reaching the servants’ entrance, and shoved five more into empty rooms and dusty storage closets halfway through the first building.

“Remember, 36 adults, and 12 children,” Ilena reminded them when they neared the door to the underground cells. Weapons drawn, the elves quietly stalked towards the guards posted there, and once the sounds of struggle ceased, she lightly tugged on Terenti’s sleeve and made for the stairs that supposedly led to the slaver’s chambers.

“That’s a  _ lot  _ of people. No way we make it out of here if we let them raise an alarm,” the Terenti said, sounding a lot more worried now that they were actually sneaking. He still wore the guise of the elven servant, as he had been for the last several hours.

“Yes, that’s why  _ we’re _ \--” At the sight of a guard, she pounced back from the edge of the wall and held her breath to listen until the sound of footsteps disappeared deeper into the hallway. “That’s why  _ we’re _ up here,” she continued with a barely audible voice. “Two unarmed, harmless knife-ears. They’ll ask questions first, and die before they think to alert the others.”

The human-playing-elf nodded uneasily. “I’ll follow your lead.”

With both guards at the slaver’s bedroom dispatched quietly by way of magic, Ilena followed the path her shadow cast over the floor, ending just at the edge of his bed, and he was gone in a matter of seconds, with a wide-eyed stare and a red smile painted across his throat. She sat back on her haunches as she wiped the blood off her knife, knees sinking in the absurdly soft cushions, and looked around the room. The moonlight was bright enough to make it easy to find the records, and once the parchment was safely hidden in her tunic and the dead guards lay out of sight behind the door, Ilena pushed the young Lord out into the hallway. The way back to the others should still have been empty and it sounded as such, so she walked boldly over the wooden floorboards.

It was the guard walking up the stairs with heavy breaths and displeased grumbling that made her slow her pace, and the ones chatting in the hall behind them that she froze up about. Her hand moved to her knife and brushed against the fabric still wet with blood. Seeing that would, without a doubt, prompt them to attack without asking questions. She huffed nervously when she realized that even with both of them using magic, one of the mercenaries would manage at least a strangled cry for help and then everything would go up in flames in a matter of seconds.

“The closet,” Ilena breathed suddenly and grabbed him by the wrist to rush back to the last one they passed.

“They saw us,” Terenti protested in a whisper, but followed her lead without hesitation.

“Shh, not yet,” she shushed and shoved him through the open door before stepping into the small space and very carefully shutting the door.

It didn’t take long for the guards to exchange a few words and pass by the closet in opposite directions. The lone thug, having stopped just a couple dozen steps from the door, started coughing violently the moment Ilena put her ear to the wooden panel. She startled and stepped back, and metal  _ something _ fell on the floor with a clang. There was a brief silence before the guard continued hacking and wheezing, and if that wasn’t a clear enough indication that he had heard, the noise getting gradually louder left no room for doubt.

“ _ Shit _ .” She could feel him starting to gather mana for a spell.

“Stop stop stop--” Ilena hissed and grabbed his arm. “No. Not yet. The others will hear and come back. Or worse.”

“What  _ else  _ can we do?” Terenti whispered back. “He’ll shout if you stab him, that’s just as bad!”

She sighed, and looked back and forth between Terenti and the door for a moment or two before stopping at him. “Kiss me.”

“ _ What _ ?” He blinked, mouth open.

“Just--  _ ugh _ ,” Ilena grumbled impatiently and quickly discarded the blood-stained tunic before pulling the hem of her undershirt partially out of the belt. She reached up to dishevel his hair, and pulled him down by the neck into a hard kiss.

Terenti was too confused to act the part well. Luckily for both of them, he wasn’t acting when his arms went around her and he returned the kiss with the same enthusiasm.

Now _ you get it _ , she thought, a great deal less annoyed than the moment before, less than she would’ve liked, but that was a concern for later. She managed only a muffled squeak and partially buried her face in his chest when the door opened, first to the blinding, sudden light of a lamp, and then the sight of a man torn between surprise and disgust and  _ anger _ .

“What in the Void do you think you’re doing up here?” The guard snarled as he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her out of the cramped space. He glowered at Terenti then. “Get out of there.  _ Now _ .”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” the male ‘elf’ managed in a breathless tone. He prayed that he’d managed to keep his mind on the illusion even while he was… distracted, and shuffled out of the closet.

“You stupid knife-ears never know your place,” he spat and let go of the girl with a slight shove, enough to make her stumble backwards. “Wait till your master hears of this. He'll fucking geld you. And  _ you _ , you doe-eyed whore, you'll  _ wish _ for something so quick and painless.  _ Get moving _ ,” the guard ordered and nodded towards the stairs.

Terenti kept his eyes downcast submissively until the guard’s heavy footsteps were merely an echo. Then he allowed himself a low growl. “He’s lucky we needed to get out quickly and quietly.” 

“He’s dying either way,” Ilena mumbled with a detached voice and smoothed a hand over her shirt to somewhat right it.

“That was quick thinking back there.” He pointedly avoided looking at her while she was adjusting her shirt.

“Wasn’t it, though?” She asked coyly and shot him a smug side glance as they hurried down the stairs to find the others. By the time they got there, the dungeon had been emptied, save for the injured man that they had saved for last. He flinched at the sudden sound, which was good.

“I don’t suppose you’ve been learning healing spells as well,” Ilena whispered to him in the doorway.

“Not an expert, but I know the basics,” Terenti said, moving quickly to the wounded prisoner. “I think I can get him well enough to move,” he muttered, hands already glowing with the magic.

“I’ll take care of the rest at camp when we get him there.” She rummaged through the clutter on the tables as she waited.

After a couple of minutes, Terenti pulled the elf to his feet. “I think he can walk now. There’s more to fix, but I assume we can’t wait around.” 

“No, we can not.”

“Thank you, Serah,” the man rasped and patted his chest, and briefly squinted at how something looked…  _ off _ about how the fabric shifted. Or didn’t..?

“You can thank him properly later.” Ilena was suddenly under the captive’s arm and leading him outside.

The archer only had to loose a couple of arrows as the three hurried over the sandy hill, and they made for the forest once they had joined the rest.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: he will be stupid about it.

Sunlight hadn’t reached the forest floor when the air filled with birdsong. Most hadn’t slept through the few hours after returning from the slaver’s estate, and others woke easily when one of the Dalish hunters blew a sharp whistle. In a matter of minutes, the freed slaves and their liberators all had tasks to see to while the druffalo lazily grazed about. There was a clan waiting near the border between Nevarra and the Free Marches, and with luck, everyone would be back home in a few weeks’ time.

The father of the elven mage, whatever his name was, handed her the reins of one of the few horses that had been brought in along with the shaggy beasts, and as she busied herself with first entertaining frightened, upset children with it and then strapping her belongings to the saddle, he searched for the young Lord in the chaos of a camp preparing for a long journey.

Terenti, no longer sporting an illusion, shuffled out of a tent and rubbed the deep bags under his eyes. He clearly wasn’t used to having to rise quickly and get moving without a proper night’s rest. Well, he _was_ a lordling.

“Good. You're awake,” the elf said by way of greeting as he approached with casual lightness about his steps. “We're preparing to escort the elves across the border. Do you have any matters to attend to here? Ghilenan did not think to ask, and I do not wish to force a decision on you.”

He stifled a yawn. “Not particularly. If you could use more help for the escort, I’m there. Shame we had to start so early, though…”

“You are welcome to travel with us. Not many would be so eager to oppose the current order of things.” He almost cracked a smile. “How long have you been doing this?”

Terenti shrugged. “Just a couple of years. Finding out I was elf-blooded, that my father had to hide it all this time… It changes your perspective.”

“I see.” The man rubbed his jaw, silent for a time. “You are either luckier than most, or far too modest about your abilities. Maybe both, with how it was my daughter to whom you boldly gave 14 different chances to kill you.”

Almost as if on cue, a child's nervous whimpering was followed by Ilena's yowl when the small girl tried to jump off the moving horse and grabbed onto her hair for balance.

“But it's not her you will need to watch out for,” he continued once she managed to pry the child off her scalp, and gave a weary sigh.

“I figured she wouldn’t betray me. But if she did, I wasn’t helpless. I have powerful magic.” Terenti shook his head. “Anyway, I was right, and she didn’t.”

“No, that is not the way of the Dalish, but do not extend such trust towards everyone.” He looked around the camp again, and pointed to the crates near the fire. “Food's there. We leave to Nevarra soon.”

“Thanks. I’ll be ready,” the mage assured him. The life lesson seemed to have flown right over his blond head for all he’d reacted.

Briefly, the elf thought to make clear the significance of his advice and his expression almost betrayed that, but if years of similar (and fruitless) attempts with a certain other mage had shown him anything, it was that no words would get through that thick skull better than something biting the boy in the ass, so he nodded and only pointed out a free horse before returning to overseeing the preparations with a new headache.

______

 

The caravan moved at the edge of the forest for the shelter it offered from the sweltering sun. Most of the freed elves weren't used to the climate and didn't so much as bother to peek out between the thick covers of the wagons. Of course, taking this this path guaranteed run-ins with bandits and other such dangers, but the elven archer had deemed that not as much of a threat as being seen by the common folk or the owners of the land they worked. He sat at the front of the foremost wagon while the others flanked the caravan, and Ilena alternated between riding at his side and scouting ahead.

Looking at her lone, shrinking silhouette from between the wagons, it seemed unsafe, but none of the Dalish appeared to be surprised or in any way concerned. Not even with the faint trails of smoke swaying lazily against the stark blue sky just over the bare hill she had taken towards.

Terenti glanced around and behind him, seeing nothing. No signs of an ambush or trap. Just the smoke on the horizon. He nudged the horse away from the caravan to see where Ilena had gone and what the signal might be.

She stopped her gelding at the top of the hill to wait for the wagons to catch up, looking over what appeared to have been a small natural fire while they moved at a glacial pace. The horse fussed in the heat and shook its head and neck with a content snort when cold waves of Ilena's magic washed over it.

“Worried?” She asked when Terenti was close enough to hear.

“A little. About the fire, I mean. You can take care of yourself,” he said quickly.

“Good save. You _are_ good with your mouth,” Ilena laughed, clearly very proud of herself and unable keep it out of her voice when she tried to reassure him, “It was just the weather. Nothing to worry about now.”

“I figured you knew _that_ after our trick in the closet.” Terenti grinned and projected as much confidence as he could, the better to conceal what had been eating at him over the last few hours. How much of it had been pretend for _her_?

She looked away and at the caravan, lips pinched between her teeth. It did little to hide the amused smile or to stop the slight chuckle. “Stupid. Don't get cocky. I'll have to prove a point then.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Will you hold me to my word?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“I'll admit to some interest,” Ilena hummed, and all manner of playfulness left her face the moment the redness of her skin could hardly be blamed on the sun.

Terenti met her gaze now, emboldened. “I feel the same way.”

“I could tell.” She urged the gelding into a slow walk as the wagons neared the bottom of the hill, and looked over her shoulder. “Don't be stupid about it.”

“Me? Stupid? I would never.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Told you they'd be stupid about it.

Stone scraping against metal was the only sound in the spot the caravan had picked for the night. Rhythmic, steady, loud only in the cozy silence of a sleeping camp. Then there was a sigh, tense and annoyed and easily mistaken for frightened.

Ilena hated watch duty. The first night it was Twitch that stood guard, but that made no difference. She hated  _ forests _ at night. Dark and cramped and full of beasts that lurked between the trees. Eyes glowing, mouths red with fresh blood. _ Blighted fleabags _ , she thought at the sound of wolves growling and snapping somewhere in the woods, and let out another small huff when they settled after a particularly loud bout of yowls and whimpers.

The fire had burned out into smoldering ashes, and there was no need for it. She could see what she was doing with the whetstone perfectly fine without it, but she used magic to feed the glowing embers through the night. At least it kept the beasts at bay.

“Cold out here,” Terenti’s voice remarked from behind her. He moved towards the embers with a longing expression. “Think we can risk making that bigger?”

Ilena put aside the stone and not-quite-staff as she shifted in her spot to look behind her. “No, we can't afford to attract unwanted attention. I’ll let you sit with me, though. It's not as bad here,” she said with a barely restrained grin and wiggled her fingers over the dying fire.

He slumped down beside her with an audible huff. “I’ve never slept out in the open like this before. How do you stand it? It’s so  _ cold.  _ And  _ loud _ . Like there’s animals everywhere in the dark.”  

“Aww. You need some fire in your blood, Terenti. Then you can also dress like a harlot,” she teased. “But the noise can't be helped until we find a tavern that doesn't mind coin from a band of everything the shemlen kingdoms despise and fear.”

“That sounds like a lead-up to  _ hoping  _ I dress like a harlot.”

“It  _ would _ only be fair,” she said with an innocent shrug.

Terenti smirked and slid towards her. “That could be arranged.”

“Weren't you complaining about being cold just a moment ago?” The elf scolded and bumped his shoulder with hers. “You should do something about that  _ fire _ , first,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

The embers flared as he put his arms around her and pulled her into a kiss.

“Not quite what I meant,” Ilena murmured against his lips when she pulled back for breath, grinning slightly, “Dramatic, though.” She calmed the flames with a smooth roll of her wrist moments after they'd roared over the empty circle of rocks, and wrapped her arms around his neck for leverage to press herself closer and kiss silent whatever smug reply he would've come up for that.

There was, in fact, very little talking for the next several minutes. Terenti forgot to whine about the cold, or the noise, or really, think about anything but Ilena. Whatever happened for the rest of the night was up to her.

In sudden contrast with her aggressive affections, Ilena shoved his chest with startling force, but held him just a breath away. She looked over her shoulder and then back at him. “Did you hear that?” She whispered, struggling to keep her voice steady and quiet. There was no suspicious sound in the woods. Or any at all, actually.

“It’s quiet, finally. That’s good. Wait, that’s… That’s not normal, is it,” he realized once he saw her expression.

“Might be wolves,” Ilena breathed. For once, she  _ hoped _ it was just a pack of wolves passing by the camp, even though the prospect sent chills down her spine and made her limbs feel heavy and clumsy. But she would've heard wolves.

At the sound of dry branches snapping and a curse muttered under someone's breath, she reached for her bladed staff and jumped to her feet in the same breath, and sparks flew when she spun around and caught the crescent swing of a longsword with it. The clash vibrated through the metal and made her palms sting.

At the sight of the man holding said longsword, Heres’ blighted guard captain, she lunged forward with a ferocious snarl, eyes wide and knuckles white around the handle of the polearm.

Terenti stumbled back and gestured for the fire to flare up. No point hiding now, and he needed to see…  _ Shit. That’s a lot of men _ . At least one was blinded by the sudden light, though, and he took advantage to lob a hard chunk of stone straight at him. The man collapsed with a groan.

The captain’s foot caught Ilena in the ribs and she rolled across the ground with little grace. “Da!” she yelled in the direction of the rest of the Dalish as she picked herself up without losing a beat, and whoever hadn't yet been roused by the sudden clash of metal, instantly responded to her shrill cry.

Heres’ guard, distracted by the sudden light, took a look at Terenti, and then another before his redecorated face twisted into an expression of horrified realization. “You!” he barked, “You're that Sokolov brat!”

His booming voice was enough to get the attention of the rest of them, even if briefly before they returned to running towards the camp with their weapons drawn. Arrows stopped some in their tracks, blades did some more.

Terenti cursed when he heard his own name. If this obsessive idiot escaped, it would ruin everything. He tried to pull some roots from the ground to bind him, but was too slow, the man simply stepping forward and through the magical trap.

“Don't be so upset, this is a good thing. I'll bring your head to Heres, and you'll get to see your little brother again,” the man taunted and raised his sword to swing at the mage.

“Don’t you  _ dare _ ,” Terenti snarled, as the fire rose, burned with white-hot intensity, and sprang like some sort of hunting animal onto the guard’s body. The man screamed and beat at the flames, but the mage’s only reaction was to make them hotter.

Some of the slaver's mercenaries realized the fight would not end well for them when the freed slaves began picking up weapons, and though their efforts were not bold nor efficient, it gave the thugs pause and made it easier for the Dalish hunters to snuff them out.

Dawen cut down the man Ilena had charged at, and turned her around by the shoulder to instead direct her attention to the young Lord cooking the guard captain in his own armor as several others stalked towards him.

The girl darted between the fighters locked in combat and pulled him a step back by the wrist once she had reached him. “That's enough! He's dead!” She shouted over the fighting as she buried the blade of her staff between somebody's ribs.

Only when Ilena physically pulled him back did Terenti snap out of it. By then the guard that had identified him and spoke about his brother was nothing but a charred skeleton in melted armor. He blinked and stumbled back, letting the Dalish finish the fighting.

The hunters padded forward, drenched in blood and eyes glowing ominously in the dim light of the fire, but that would only prompt the mercenaries to scatter into the forest, making it near impossible to find and catch them before they made it out and to the nearest human settlement. “Corral them! They're going to run!” Ilena shrieked when the enemy started falling back, nostrils flaring from exertion and panic.

“I… I’m too low on mana. But we can’t let them get away,” Terenti gasped. These men knew his name, exactly who he was, that he was half-elf…

After only a moment's hesitation, she twirled her staff in front of her and raised it overhead, and walls of fire burst from the ground, blocking the way out of the forest. The sellswords reeled back from the flames and were slain before they could give voice to the fear their faces betrayed.

“They're done,” Twitch shouted after taking a quick glance around the clearing, and Ilena dropped the polearm with what looked like a disgusted toss.

“ _ Shit _ ,” was all the lordling could muster as he surveyed the devastation. “I can’t believe they followed us all this way.”

“Should’ve laid waste to the whole keep once the slaves were outside its walls,” the elf spat and wiped the blood off her face with a sleeve. Once she realized she’d said that out loud, she froze and held her breath, waiting silently for the disapproving sigh that should've followed but never came.

“Well, now they won’t be following anyone anywhere,” one of the hunters huffed as he pulled his arrow out of a corpse.

With dread in her gut, Ilena turned to look at those standing, and then the ones lying on the blood-soaked ground. None of the elves appeared to have fallen, which was good; The tipped over crates at the edge of the camp and blood smeared across the tent canvas - less so.

“Is everyone okay?” Terenti, like her, was looking around the assembled elves. “Where’s… uh… your father?”

“Ran after some deserters,” the hunter said with a shrug and gestured towards the stained tent and scattered crates.

“ _ Some _ ?!” She squeaked, outraged at the man's casual tone. He shrugged again, and her nose wrinkled in anger. “And you let him go alone--”

“I was needed here.”

Ilena opened her mouth to argue, but all that came out was a frustrated growl, and she shouldered past him to rummage through one of the boxes. She fished out a vial of blue liquid that lit up at the sudden touch and movement.  “Here.” She tossed it at Terenti before stepping over the crates and towards pitch dark woods.

The lordling quaffed the lyrium potion while on the move, following quickly after Ilena. She clearly wouldn’t stop until she’d found her father out there.

Veilfire danced around her fingers as she rushed between the trees and through the thick underbrush, calling for the archer once every few minutes. There were enough broken branches and bloody leaves to track them, and the lifeless body of a sellsword on the forest floor somewhat calmed her mind that raced from one bad scenario to another.  _ Easy prey _ , she thought to herself as she walked around the dead man, and slowed her pace when the trail disappeared.

“Da!” She shouted again, and only the echo of her voice answered the cry. She dropped her hand and the fire faded, leaving behind only the soft murmuring of spirits pressing against the Veil. “Fuck,” Ilena breathed. “ _ Shit _ !” She almost yelled then and rubbed her face with both hands and a slight sniffle.

“We’ll keep looking,” Terenti said, eyes darting around the forest, seeing nothing yet. “He’s out here. Somewhere.”  _ Hopefully alive _ .

“I  _ know _ that!” The girl snapped and bit her tongue, taken aback by her own outburst. “I wasn't… I wasn't about to…” she stumbled over the words and chewed on her lip in an attempt to avoid the nervous rambling she was about to launch into. And probably crying, too.

The human bit his lip, reached for her, but hesitated halfway there.  _ That’s what got you into this mess, isn’t it?  _ “It’s all going to be okay,” he said, more to himself.

“Okay,” she mumbled and swallowed the lump in her throat. Ilena knew well her father's skill and strength, and her concern felt misplaced.  _ I should feel sorry for the bastards that ran from him _ , she thought to herself and huffed loudly, only half convinced. “Okay,” she repeated, sounding a great deal less like she was on the verge of burning down the woods, and turned around. With her movement came a light pull on the Fade, and tiny wisps rose from the ground, illuminating the forest floor with their pulsing light as the ring of magic grew around her. It searched, flashed brightly where the Fade still stirred from the fear that lingered, and disappeared when a loud cry rang through the forest and made Ilena lose focus on the spell.

“Where… Where did that come from?” Terenti blinked around helplessly in the sudden darkness.

Ilena grabbed him by the wrist and bolted towards the sound, only to be met with a loud crack of bones and a muffled grunt. She halted as abruptly as she had taken off, and conjured the magic fire with her free hand while the other’s grip tightened reflexively in anticipation.

Dawen dropped the lifeless body of the last remaining mercenary and straightened his back. Drenched in blood and breathing heavily, he turned around to look at the two. He managed only to open his mouth to speak before Ilena was on him, checking to see if he was wounded or otherwise wounded. He faced the fussing with the patience of someone that had seen more than enough of it in his life.

“You got all of them?” Terenti asked, nudging the dead man on the forested ground with one boot.  

“Did you?” He asked after a sight nod and choked back a pained groan when Ilena peeled off the sticky fabric from a gash on his arm.

“Ir abelas,” she apologized, not as much about the pain as she did about the mess, judging from the pouty voice and downcast eyes, and stepped back once the wound closed up under the palm of her hand.

“None of them made it out of the main encampment alive,” Terenti confirmed, with a pained expression. Calmer now, the screams from the burning man coming back into his mind, unbidden.

“Good. Did we lose anyone?”

“Only injured,” Ilena mumbled and uncomfortably shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

“I see. Let's get back now.” He lightly squeezed her shoulder and took the lead towards the camp at a wandering pace.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding out what happened to Vasili in this AU ;)

The caravan was well on its way to the border the next time Terenti found himself alone with Ilena. It had been mercifully uneventful since the night of the attack, but progress was much slower than he would’ve liked between the elves’ injuries and the need to conceal their tracks more carefully. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it would give someone else time to catch up and threaten them.

And of course, they’d been avoiding each other. Nothing close to the intimacy of that night when she’d been on watch.  _ That  _ had been a mistake and very well could have gotten everyone killed, if Heres’ hirelings had been better at their jobs.

He knew that, but his heart still leaped in his chest when he saw her trudging slowly at the back of the line, and he dropped back to walk beside her.

“You had watch again last night?” he asked, noting the bags under her eyes.

“No,” Ilena said coldly. Thankfully, the young Lord wasn't subtle by anybody's standards, so she had had the time to steel her nerves. To an acceptable degree, considering she hadn't slept more than a few hours since the attack. “There won't be any more watch duty for me for a while,” she added with a sour voice when even the short silence became somehow unbearable.

“Oh. Yeah. I guess they’d… Yeah.” Terenti scuffed the ground with a boot as he walked.  _ You idiot _ .

“Not  _ they _ . It's not  _ their _ place to--... My f--...” She let out an irritated huff and swept stray hairs back from her face, only to regret it as an afterthought when she flushed at the memory of the… well, it wasn't exactly a scolding, it never was with Dawen, but that made no difference. He was disappointed _ , angry _ , even, though he didn't raise his voice or speak unkindly to her. 'Do better,’ he’d said in the end and he was right to ask that of her, so it shouldn't have wounded her pride like it did. “Nevermind. I don't want to talk about this.”

“Right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up, or… Well, I’m sorry,” he repeated, trailing off instead of going into what else he shouldn’t have done, exactly.

“Forget it. I should’ve known better,” Ilena grumbled, “Getting distracted like that…” She could almost hear Dawen saying something about how useless it is to linger on should’ve-s and could’ve-s and cut short that chain of thought. “You should keep a vial of Lyrium on you if you’re going to be so wasteful with your mana,” she said suddenly after a few more moments of uncomfortable silence.

“I’ll get some vials when I can. But I shouldn’t have put myself in that position at all. You’re right. If there’d been more and your father hadn’t dealt with them...” Terenti sighed.  

“Why such ferocity, anyway? He was a prick, sure, but…”

“He taunted me and I fell for it. We’re lucky it didn’t cost us more,” he said, not able to meet her eyes, evasiveness in his voice.

“Ah, good, I thought you turned him into ashes just because you didn't like his face,” she said sarcastically.

“You were there. You must’ve heard what he said.”

“Only some of it,” Ilena mumbled perhaps too sourly, and waved her hands in surrender, “Not that I want to! Hear the rest of it, I mean.” She bit her lips. “I would, I mean. I just didn't mean to pry--”

Terenti sighed. “It’s fine. You’d have found out eventually; it’s not a secret. I had a brother, but he died.”

“Oh… yeah, I…” She chewed on the corner of her mouth for a time, trying to decide on an appropriate thing to say, and settled for a small huff. It was clearly a wound that still stung, and her ill-timed, misplaced curiosity would benefit no one. “We need to get you a staff,” she decided in another spontaneous change of subject.

“It’s a lot of work, considering I  _ do  _ have one back home. But we might run into trouble again,” he added with a frown. 

“For  _ shems _ , maybe,” she scoffed, “We'll likely stay with the Nevarran clan for a few days either way. They can make one. Or we could go and fetch yours, if you're so attached to it.”

“You think they’d do that for a  _ shem _ ?” he asked, with a deliberate emphasis.

Ilena frowned, and then pouted, red from ear to ear now, and finally swatted at his arm with the back of her hand. “No, but they'd do it for a knife-ear.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

Terenti grinned back. “Just saying, I’m not quite either. But your people have been  _ far  _ more friendly than any humans in Tevinter would be if they knew the truth. I appreciate it.”

“What? No! Don't… that's stupid,” she scolded, brows drawn together in what seemed like genuine concern. “Thinking like that is a very good way of ending up shot full of arrows, Terenti.”

“So what you’re saying is… your group is unique in not having shot me on sight?” The grin faded rather quickly.

“I’m saying that the hatred between our races is mutual, and the fact that we're having this conversation is only because of some… I don't know. Fate, I suppose. Dumb luck.” The girl pulled a small knife from inside her belt and held it out for him. “What did you think I was doing, fussing with my belt at the slaver's estate?”

“Preparing to stab me,” Terenti said, shrugging and not taking the knife. “But you listened when I explained myself. It’s not hopeless to talk things out.”

“I listened because I had no better choice. In any other scenario, one of us would've ended up dead.”

“You may be right. I just had a feeling it’d work out.”

“Let’s just hope your luck doesn't run out. I'll see to the rest while you travel with us.”   
  


\-------------

It was late evening when the scout returned with news of trail markers not far from the border. The caravan didn't stop or set up camp as they normally would, what with the clan only a couple hours of travel away, and soon enough they were warm near the massive campfire, surrounded by landships and song and… fighting? Twitch said it was a dance before jumping straight through the flames and lunging sword-first at someone. Only at times did it look like one, so those stolen from the cities watched in horrified fascination.

The clan’s mage and the greying archer of the small Dalish group had taken towards the larger Aravel the moment they arrived, discussing the fate of the freed slaves as they walked, maps and the slaver's records in hand. Ilena opted out of the discussion in favor for joining the celebration, and emboldened by the unexpectedly strong Dalish wine, took a few challenges and danced until her legs shook and throat burned from the greedy breaths she drew.

She staggered back from the fire and straight to the young Lord once she spotted him, and swiped his mug with a snigger before sitting cross-legged next to him and taking a swig. “Augh! You drink this cold?!” She coughed right after and shoved it back into his hands.

Terenti laughed at the look on her face. “Of course. You could have asked to make sure before gulping it down.”

“I took you for a man with good taste, Terenti Sokolov.” Ilena slapped his shoulder half-heartedly and leaned against him with hers. “Oh, how you've betrayed my faith,” she sighed in feigned despair. “Terribly unfortunate.”

“Our tastes may be a little… different. In Tevinter our celebratory dancing doesn’t usually involve swinging swords at each other.” He nodded at Twitch who was still going strong.

“No? Wait until I get my spear, then,” she snorted. “Or maybe not. But the dancing has nothing to do with the atrocity you've been subjecting yourself to,” the elf pointed at the mug, “Try it hot.”

“I will if you drink it with me.” Terenti grinned and raised the mug.

“Ma nuvenin,” she purred and steam rose from the cup when she touched his hand over it and pushed it towards him.

“What’s that mean?” he asked, lifting it to take a drink.

“It roughly translates to 'as you wish’.” Ilena swiped the mug again and cocked an eyebrow at him in an unspoken question before taking a sip herself.

“And if I  _ wish _ to leave this loud party for something more private?”

She buried her face in his chest to stifle a giggle and set the drink down on the nearest piece of even ground, and looked up once she'd regained her composure. Somewhat. “Ma nuvenin,” the girl said coyly.

Terenti grinned and grabbed her hand to lead her away from the fire.

For a while she followed silently, fingers loosely laced with his, every nerve tingling in anticipation. “Can you swim?” She asked suddenly as she looked around.

“Oh  _ yes _ . Lead on,” he said with a laugh.

Ilena gave him a suspicious smirk before pulling him towards the overgrown trail off to the side of the camp. “I like your enthusiasm,” she called over her shoulder and let go of Terenti's hand only to untie what remained of her braid.

“Surely you’re not surprised. Where’s the water? I don’t remember seeing a river as we traveled.”

“Not a river. A lake.” She ducked under low-hanging branches to step out into a small clearing. “Right... here.” The elf twirled around, arms spread theatrically in front of the eerily still pond.

Terenti picked up a stone from the ground and held it in both hands until it glowed white hot, then tossed it into the peaceful water. “Now we won’t freeze to death. You’re welcome.” 

“It wouldn't have been that bad,” she said with a grin as she walked backwards, shedding and discarding her clothes by the layer. “Nice trick, though. Did you learn it in one of those fancy Tevinter circles?”

He stopped abruptly, halfway undressed and with just a foot in the water. “No,” he frowned. “My brother invented it.” 

A quiet 'oh’ was all she managed before looking away, suddenly very sober and struggling not to simply flee the awkwardness that her comment had caused. “Well, you probably killed all the fish in there. I think I'll just stay on the shore,” Ilena mumbled and stepped out of the water.

“It’s fine. I mean. It should be fine. I shouldn’t let the mere mention of him ruin everything. He wouldn’t want that.” Terenti huffed and sat on the edge of the lake. “He’s probably shouting at me from the Void for ruining the mood.” 

“In all fairness, I brought it up, so…” she trailed off and chewed on the inside of her lip once she'd shrugged back into her tunic. “But I don't think that's... something to yell about,” she said with a pouty voice and sat next to him, eyes downcast and hands in her lap, fidgeting with an oddly shaped stone she picked up.

“I miss him,” was all Terenti managed to say after a long and awkward silence. 

“Come here,” Ilena sighed when she couldn't think of anything better to say, and shifted to turn towards him. “Can't let you have  _ all _ the stupid, apparently,” she grumbled under her breath and pulled him to her by the arm. “Plus I'm cold. And you look like you're cold, too.”

He put his arms around her and buried his face in her neck, the first tears already forming. 

Ilena pressed her cheek to the crown of his head with a small huff. “You better not make me regret this,” she mumbled in Elven and stroked his hair as long as he allowed it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I warned you about the ending!

Almost as if he'd understood her words and taken them to heart in the way opposite to what she meant, the young Lord didn't seek contact with her after that, and cut short the times that she did. He did little to make even  _ that _ simple, what with the sad puppy eyes she caught staring from across the camp more than once, and from the other end of the small caravan as they travelled along the border between Tevinter and Nevarra. There was only so much she was willing to do to fix… whatever was happening between them. She asked first, and he assured her it was nothing. Then she kissed him, barely a peck, and  _ his _ kiss left her light-headed, and angry at how quickly he drew back, only to press his forehead to hers and not even look her in the eye as he retreated. The absolute  _ jerk _ even had the audacity to apologize-- but Ilena put aside the vexation, and left a pair of riding gloves next to his bag a few days later. A small gift, or maybe a bribe. One that promptly disappeared either way.

But Terenti made no effort to actually leave, even when the group set out to meet with their clan in the Free Marches. That was, until  _ he _ received a bird from Tevinter, and started packing supplies for the journey back home. “Unexpected family drama” was what he called it when he, for some reason, thought he had to justify his leaving the band of slave-stealing rebels. Not to her, no. Ilena overheard him talking to Dawen, and fled to the river nearby when the ire she'd been stockpiling came back all at once.

And that’s where Terenti went to find her, because of course he did; he couldn’t leave well enough alone. There was a lot of throat-clearing and boot-scuffing and a couple of false coughs, as if he thought this conversation would have itself. Finally: “I’m sorry. I can’t stay a moment longer. Our enemies will tear Father apart if I don’t go settle things, and if that happens I won’t be able to help  _ anyone _ .”

“I heard,” the elf said with a shrug and kicked her feet in the cold water, not even looking at him. “As if that will change anything,” she mumbled under her breath.

“I… wish I could stay,” he mumbled, “But I just--Have to go. So. That’s that.”

“Okay... It'll be better like this anyway,” she tried to sound unaffected, and would've probably looked the part if she hadn't started plucking blades of grass with clumsy, tense fingers. “You won't be an indecisive  _ jerk _ anymore, and I won't have to watch you be one. Everybody wins,” she grumbled bitterly as she tossed a handful of grass into the river.

Terenti bit his lip. “I… I want to stay and be with you but I just  _ can’t _ . I shouldn’t have waited for the message from home. I should have said it that night.”

“That makes little difference, Lord Sokolov,” Ilena sneered, glaring over her shoulder now. “I asked  _ one _ thing only, that you not be stupid about this, and that's exactly what--” the tightness in her throat cut her rant short and she huffed angrily at him instead. “Didn't you say you couldn't 'stay a moment longer’?!”

“Right… I did.” He swallowed hard. “I should… go.”

“Then go.” She glared at him for a beat or two before turning her fiery gaze back to the water and tucking legs under herself.

He didn’t say anything else, and eventually she heard the shuffling steps, the soft grunt as he mounted the borrowed horse. Then he was gone.

“Stupid idiot,” Ilena rasped when she was alone, and rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm before storming back to the small camp and occupying herself with the tasks she'd been putting off. It only served to aggravate her further, however, and after a whole day of pouting and curt answers, she settled between two large roots near the fire where Dawen prepared for the night's watch.

“How… upset would Keeper be if I were to miss this gathering?” She asked without looking up from the frayed end of the sleeve she'd been plucking at.

He took a thoughtful look at her, momentarily concerned about this new, unsure tone she spoke to him with, until he realized what Ilena was tiptoeing around, what she'd been brooding about for the better part of the day. “I cannot say, da'len,” the man replied, and watched her try to order her thoughts. “Why do you ask?” He broke the silence when she didn't, half hoping for her to give up on the idea and half frustrated with himself for not putting an end to her infatuation after the mess at the forest, back when it would have hurt less.

Ilena met his gaze and barely held it, nostrils flaring, mouth pressed into a thin line and brows furrowed, and still she managed to look utterly defeated. “I just had a stupid idea and… I don't know,” she mumbled and looked down again, now chewing on the corner of her mouth.

“I… see.” The man rose with a small grunt and sat next to her, and she only pulled harder at the threads. “Go,” he sighed, “I'll talk to Deshanna.” Somehow that soured her mood even more.

“No. It's stupid,” she grumbled and looked up at him, “If he wanted me to go with him, he would have said so.”

“Did you tell him you wanted him to stay?” Dawen asked after a tense pause.

“No…” Ilena answered almost too quickly, and scowled more when he chuckled and pulled her in to kiss her head.

“I would prefer for you to stay, but I know you will go after him, even if not today. And tomorrow it will be too late.” He looked at her with the smile of a tired father. “Take some gold and buy a decent horse, though. None of these will last longer than a day's ride.”

“Okay,” she muttered, “He'll probably get himself killed if I don't, anyway…”

“Probably not,” the archer laughed. “You know how to find the clan when it's time to return,” he said with a voice suddenly devoid of humor, “Come winter, I will look for you, and I'll never let you out of my sight again. Now go.”

With that, Ilena squeezed the breath out of him and darted towards her horse. It was saddled in minutes, and running at full gallop across the sun-dried field in a few more.

_____

Terenti sighed deeply into a pile of letters and rubbed at his eyes. It was the dead of night, far past time to be asleep, but he couldn’t afford that. There were magisters to contact, officials to bribe, formal invitations to accept. He should’ve known better than to leave the family’s affairs all up to Father, who’d never been a particularly accomplished politician. But he’d been distracted, happy, infatuated…

He grunted and hurled one of the papers into the crackling fire. Well, that was over now, and it was all for the best.

Ilena briefly debated whether to wait until morning before waltzing up to the gates of the estate. There was no doubt it belonged to the Sokolov family, several traders along the highway had confirmed its location, as did the sigils on the stone columns on either side of the entrance. Finding him was easy. Sneaking in would be, too, though guards patrolled the grounds. Their pattern was predictable, and if there was anything she was good at, it was hiding in the shadows. But she hadn't considered sneaking in, just like she hadn't thought of what to say, how to justify this ridiculous, stupid thing she had set out to do.

There was lead in her limbs and knots in her stomach, and by the time she forced herself to walk out into the dim light of the moon, she had come to terms with every unfortunate outcome. A guard shouted to halt, and she did, and she waited for the human to approach with another that the noise drew in, and she explained, though with no small amount of indignation when they, objectively with good reason, doubted her words and she had to ask them to inform and fetch Lord Sokolov. Ilena half expected them to raise the alarm and put her in chains, but one of the guards eventually left towards the main building while the other stayed behind to watch her.

Terenti scowled when the guard interrupted his work, though he couldn’t maintain it once the man mentioned a elf who had strangely shown up in the middle of the night. The man was talking about a potential threat, an assassin, but Terenti knew exactly who the elf was. His heart sank.

  
“Send her away,” he commanded, but immediately interrupted himself before the guard had taken two steps to the door. “No. Send her in. I’ll deal with this myself.”  _ As I should have from the beginning _ .

The confused guard departed to his task, muttering under his breath.

Both guards accompanied her this time, one of them marching stiffly ahead and the other following close behind. The elf freely gave up the staff as they walked through the otherwise empty halls, and with a challenging glare, easily convinced them to leave her knife where it was when they led her into the office.

“I assume this isn't the best time,” she commented on the tired look he wore, trying to sound and look amused as the guards gave her a warning stare for every remotely abrupt move she made in the young Lord's direction. “I can come back later, if you'd prefer. Like when it's not pitch dark outside.”

“Leave us,” Terenti ordered the guards, and only when they’d reluctantly left the room, glaring at Ilena all the while, did he continue. “Not really. I didn’t think you’d follow me.”

“In all fairness, neither did I,” she mumbled as she stalked away from the door. “I was more hoping I'd catch you on the way, and then…” Ilena said with a shrug, and crossed her arms with an audible, tense huff.

“Well, you’ve had a long ride. I’m sure you want to rest. Have a seat,” he nodded at an ornate chair. “And you can stay here tonight.” There wasn’t a suggestive look or hint in his tone of voice, just smooth and practiced manners of a host to a guest.

“Ah,” she sighed, sounding more wounded than she'd meant to. “That is...a gracious offer. One I should decline.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried desperately to order her thoughts into something akin to a dignified response. “You don't want me here, that much is clear and more reasonable than… whatever this was.”

Terenti pulled absently at one cuff. “No, I want you to stay the night. It wouldn’t be right to turn someone away at this hour.”

“And  _ then _ what? Come the morning, I leave and you see me off at the gates?” The elf sneered and shook her head. “There is no reason for me to stay another moment,” she lowered her voice when she halted at the door, “Except… I want to know why. Is this about your brother? Was it a knife-ear that took him from you? Or is it because you somehow think my kind beneath you?”

He’d been pretending to read over one of the letters, but it shook in his hand as he responded. “I don’t want to talk about it. You don’t--I can’t--Just, go,” he finished weakly.

“You can't what? Have the simple decency to tell me why you suddenly won't even  _ look _ at me?” Ilena rasped and shot him a teary-eyed glare. “It's fine. I figured halfway here that I'd be going home with nothing gained, but you… you could've at least lied to me.”

Terenti was evidently trying to sound harsh, but his voice held a pleading note. “What almost happened that night was wrong. Thinking about my brother was just a reminder that it wasn’t… that I’m not…” He cleared his throat and choked out, “That I don’t deserve to presume that sort of thing from one of the Dalish.”

“I see. It's a matter of  _ 'How could a Dalish lie with a Vint?’ _ and all that,” She said with a mocking voice, and worried her lip between her teeth with a spiteful grin for a brief moment. “If that's the sort of dynamics you saw, then it really is for the best that we part ways.”

“No! It’s not that--Fine, since you won’t be satisfied,” he growled. “The truth, then. My brother and I slaughtered a dozen of our slaves,  _ elven slaves _ , in an attempt to increase our own power. The same old story of magisters and rampant blood magic. It didn’t work. He died. And I… have had to live with what we did.”

“Okay,” was all she said, tense and just above a whisper, no louder than the heartbeat in her ears, and she leaned into the door with her back. Her skin crawled at the change of tone, and at the revelation, which, in itself, would've--no,  _ should've _ \-- been no surprise, given that this was Tevinter. The fact that she'd let down her guard so easily, so  _ quickly _ , served only to unsettle her more, and she used whatever self-control she had left to put on a cold facade.

“Those were the last slaves I ever owned.” Now that he was talking, Terenti seemed to find it difficult to stop. “I tracked down their surviving family members, purchased them and freed them. Going through proxies, of course. I was too ashamed to tell them the truth. It didn’t help. I still saw the bodies every night in the Fade, with Vas--with my brother. From there it was slaves in general, caravans of them, but nothing helped.” He barked a laugh. “Why did you think I was there to help you? Just the latest pathetic attempt to make myself feel better.”

“You ignorant, self-pitying  _ child _ ,” Ilena spat, and prowled towards him as she ranted on in barely restrained anger, “You deny my accusation like you don’t see my people as  _ something else _ from the top of your imaginary pedestal, and yet your main regret is that your slaves were  _ elven _ .” She stopped just inches from him, glaring fiercely up at the man. “Elf-blooded or not, you, and your father, and every other blighted Lord and Magister, are as much slaves of the Imperium and its founding principles as those your misguided conscience says need deliverance by your hand.” She huffed and the anger melted away from her face for something almost mournful to take its place. “But you hurt, and you  _ want _ to hurt, so you dwell endlessly, and you don’t let the dead rest in doing so.”

He shook his head. “Sure, the Imperium teaches us elves aren’t people, just tools and  _ things _ , but I still had a choice. All those people I  _ murdered  _ never did. Don’t try to make me feel better with platitudes!”

“I'm not trying to  _ comfort _ you. It is not my place nor wish to do that,” the elf scoffed and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “And a fruitless endeavor to boot.”

“What, then? You  _ should  _ be storming out or trying to kill me or  _ something _ ,” Terenti said with a scowl. “I’m not what you thought I was, not even close!”

“If that is what you expected me to do, neither am I,” she rumbled. “I will not 'storm out’, and I won't add my blood to these stones by trying to kill a Magister's heir in a blind rage while a dozen of his guards wait outside,” Ilena ended the sentence loudly enough for for them to hear, and only the soft, muffled jingle of mail answered her. “But I will leave, now that I know my only mistake in this was to think you saw more than just a knife-ear you could use to ease your conscience.”

“If you meant that little to me, I wouldn’t have left,” he said, without looking at her.  

“No. You don’t get to say that to me,” she said with a shake of her head and a slight hitch in her otherwise steely voice, and backed up a few steps towards the door. It opened almost soundlessly when she turned around to pull on the handle, and the elf let out an irritated huff at the sight of uneasy faces in the hallway. “Goodbye, Lord Sokolov. I won't be troubling you anymore,” she called over her shoulder as she took back her staff from the woman holding it, and marched back the way she'd come after dismissing one of the other guards with a sharp ‘I'll find my own way out.’

The door to the Lord’s study closed quietly and there was no sound from within. But the guards didn’t dare try to open it and check on him. 


End file.
